Once in a Lifetime
by The Phoenix Keeper
Summary: When the kingdom's most wanted (and not to mention most desperate) thief finds himself only three days 'til certain death, who knew it would be up to the estranged princess of Corona to help him out of his muddle… With some strings attached of course.
1. Chapter 1

_I do Not Own Tangled._

In hot pursuit Flynn tore through the forsaken harbour as if the hounds of hell were on his trail. Though in this particular situation the hound was a large brawny fella with sparse red hair and matching sideburns that extended to a chin that Michelangelo would have been proud to have chiselled.

He was a quick one, he'd give him that, but all that muscle can really weigh a guy down. Flynn on the other hand was leaner, younger, swifter, and has had more experience in dodging irritable company to last him a lifetime; Royal guards, relentless ex-flames, former poker companions catching a glimpse of the ace up his sleeve… please, they were his bread and butter.

Apparently it's only when you start ticking off homicidal delinquents with startling anger-management issues do you really find yourself in a pickle.

His choice of direction were severely limited. There was nowhere to go but forward. His left was blocked off by a grimy 30 foot parapet that presumably stretched for miles on end and turning right would prove even worse than futile- unless of course he didn't mind taking a dip into opaque God-knows-what infested waters.

Let's just say that the North Harbour wasn't exactly the most eye-catching establishment in comparison to the rest of the 'oh so glorious kingdom that is fair Corona'. This place was a ramshackle to put it kindly, not to mention dingy and on some days you could practically cut through the dense smog with a butter-knife.

The eerie silence it typically carried was shattered by the rhythmic scuffing of his boots on the cobblestone pavement and the bellows of curses from Flynn's sword-drawn pursuer.

Running faster and faster with no planned destination, the dull scenery flying by him was nothing more than a grey blur.  
>Unfortunately he wasn't going fast enough to surpass the putrid stench of rotting fish guts.<p>

And to think he _so close_ to finally sailing away, home-free, and as far away from _HER_ as possible. He could have been half way to an exotic paradise of his choosing by now. No more royal guards. No more _HER_. No more ruffians and thugs chasing after him with pointy objects and a zealous desire to impale him. Not a care in the world, just the sand at his feet.

But alas t'was not meant to be.

Fore you see, instead of working on his well-deserved tan, Flynn was stuck gallivanting through in a glorified fish morgue just because _SOME PEOPLE_ can't learn to let the little things go!

In the distance Flynn could see he was quickly approaching a stack of barrels, all neatly bound in the order of a pyramid. That gave him an idea. Granted, it wasn't the most elaborate escape route he had ever concocted but he figured beggars can't be choosers.

Picking up speed Flynn turned his attention to his well-worn satchel and awkwardly sought out his pocket knife.

When he retrieved it, Flynn held it with a tight grip and as he drew near the barrel stack he slashed the rope in one swift motion without halting. Fortunately the rope was already well frayed and came apart almost instantly as the weight of the barrels appeared too great for the feeble thread to hold. As soon as the base of the structure came apart, the rest followed suit with a clatter.

Flynn jerked his head around to see if his plan had brought the desired result.

He smirked with satisfaction as he turned just in time to witness the dolt tumble over the rolling barrels like a first rate jester. But still Flynn kept to his speed as he figured his plan would only provide him with a temporary delay. Sideburns got back on his feet soon enough and with his tempter reignited he was bulleting after the thief.

_Phew… what this guy lacks in charm he sure gains with persistence._

Fatigue now kicking in, Flynn peered around for a plan a B.

Searching… searching… and-

Bingo!

Just a little up ahead he spotted a narrow walkway through the parapet. Although he wasn't 100% sure as to where it lead to exactly (he presumed the back alleys) but any other place had got to be better than here.

He abruptly made a sharp left turn, swinging his weight around a lamppost and into the tunnel, but not before noticing- belatedly- a hunk of wood that lay on the midst of the passageway. He stumbled hard to his face.

_Smooth one Rider._

Lifting his head, Flynn glared at the object accusingly and saw it was an old torch that must have long since fallen from its holder bolted to the wall.

Hearing the rapid heavy footsteps coming in from behind him, Flynn seized the torch and leapt to his feet. Holding it ready, slightly above his head like a baseball player would, he mentally counted to three and took a deep breath waiting for the perfect moment.

1…2… enter thug-

3… _WHACK!_

And down he went sideburns and all.

"Sweet dreams Sleeping Beauty." He muttered before tossing his weapon of choice over his shoulder.

'_Well, better get going before Tweedle-Dee tries to take a stab at me_.'

Stepping out of the end of the tunnel, Flynn grinned smugly at his accomplishment. Yep, he really had gotten out completely scotch free on this one. In fact it was almost an insult that she'd sent only one of her buffoons after him. As if one insignificant, albeit large, man could possibly take down the notorious, fearless, most-

_WHAM!_

His self-gloating thoughts were immediately interrupted when a brick-like fist collided with his gut.

The sudden blow was heavy. Flynn sputtered out a curse as he dropped to his knees and clutching his winded stomach. He stayed there for just a couple more eternal seconds as his attacker sneered menacingly.

Forcibly unable to draw in or out a single breath he was on the verge of suffocating (or so it felt) before at last sweet oxygen once again restored his lungs.

He glanced up to perceive his attacker before recognizing the familiar scar-inflicted face. He was a large brawny man with sparse red hair and a finely chiselled chin.

Sound familiar?

Well as fate would have it, this chap sneering before him was none other than the identical twin brother to Sideburns back there.

No joke, there really were two of them.

And around these parts they were known as the infamous Stabbington brothers.

The only difference between them- and not to mention the only possible way Flynn could tell them apart- was that this one, polishing his knuckles on his dark leather doublet, had an eye-patch covering his left eye.

He got to his feet giving out a chesty cough when he heard the haunting sound of a woman's dark chuckle emerging from the shadows through a darkened doorway behind him. Flynn grimaced, instantly recognizing the owner of the voice.

"My, my, my look at what the cat dragged in."

Flynn scoffed. _More like sucker punched when his head was turned._

He cleared his throat and almost right on cue swallowed his grief and turned to give her his signature debonair smile. "Why Gothel fancy running into you here. My, aren't you looking radiant in the… smoggy glow of this rather uncomfortably secluded alleyway. You know not many women in such a delicate age can pull that look off."

Gothel stood right before him with her cold grey eyes fixed on Flynn; almost daring him to make a sudden movement.

_Geez, it was like looking into the eyes of Medusa._

Flynn remained neutral despite the chills he felt coursing down his spine.

She was at best fifty years older than him. Her sunken eyes and wrinkled skin couldn't be hidden by the copious amounts of powder and other cosmetics that adorned her face. Her hair was an abundant mass of neat corkscrew curls that were possibly at one stage raven black, but now had altered to a dull salt-and-pepper grandma look.

Yet Flynn already knew from experience not to let the 'feeble old lady' appearance fool him. Gothel was Corona's most notorious con-woman. She was deviously crafty, as sharp as a whip and was always one step ahead of her opponent and anyone else who dared defy her.

With solemn echoing clacks from her heels on the cobblestone pavement, Gothel slowly circled Flynn as a vulture would do its prey. "Let's cut to the chase Rider. Where is it?"

He crossed his arms over his chest lazily and smirked, still keeping up with his undaunted Façade. "Back in the tunnel- he pointed with his chin- don't worry I left him in one piece for ya."

"Don't play dumb with me Rider. Where is IT?" Gothel demanded through gritted teeth.

He forced a dry chuckle. "Right, well about that... Funny story actually, you see I don't… necessarily… have it."

Gothel was silent. She visibly clenched her jaw tightly like she was restraining herself from lashing at him out at him or worse. Her deep breathing became more evident though her thick velvet cloak and was glaring up at him so hard Flynn quietly hoped she'd burst a blood vessel.

"All right Rider." Her teeth remained gritted. "I'll give you three seconds to recall what you've done with it." She gestured to Patch-Face on her right- "I would detest having to resort to such unnecessary violence on such a handsome face."

Flynn smirked again despite himself. "Yeah, well I don't recall things very clearly when it's my handsome face on the line. Call it a quirk if you may."

Oh he was well aware of the hole he was digging for himself, but his smugness was an involuntary reflex. What did they expect him to do? Drop to his knees and plea for their unlikely forgiveness. Nuh uh, Flynn always had to be the stronger man… figuratively speaking of course; I mean have you seen the size of this guy? His biceps were bigger then Flynn's head. But he sure as hell wasn't going to tell them what he actually did with it. He shuddered at the consequences.

Unimpressed by his latest smart remark, Gothel drew a deadpan expression and snapped her fingers signalling her lackey to take the lead.

Flynn held up his hands innocently. "Whoa, whoa easy there. C'mon we can work this all out-"

But with a little too much eagerness for Flynn's liking, Patchy fisted the scruff of Flynn's collar and socked him in mouth with his other hand using unmerciful force.

He continued this action again.

And again.

Patchy then put some more swing into the last blow and knocked Flynn back onto his knees.

Flynn spat blood from his busted lip, hoping that he hadn't swallowed any teeth. Running his tongue along his jaw he was relieved to find them all present and accounted for. He breathed through his nose, mastering the pain, and gave them a weak red-toothed smile. "Alright, well now I'm defiantly not going to tell you."

Bracing himself, Flynn knew the track he had decided to take was going to earn him some more thumps. But instead, to Patchy's disappointment, Gothel raised her hand and ordered him to halt on further assault. "You know Rider; there's only one thing that I hate more than people who take what rightfully belongs to me- and it's when they think they can get away with it." Flynn noticed Gothel clutching a pendent of some sort that hung on a long chain around her neck. "You took everything I worked for and now you're going to pay me back one way, or another. And of course, being the kind and compassionate woman that I am, I've decided to grant you a choice." Gothel pulled out his wanted poster from under her black cloak. "Now let's see here…" She pretended to examine it and clucked her tongue disapprovingly. "Well, someone's been a naughty boy"- she smirked- "…yep, wanted dead or alive and included with a rather handsome reward."

"Well I don't like to toot my own horn."

Gothel rolled up the crinkled piece of paper and tapped him on the chest with it, ready to conclude her point. "So basically Rider, I could give you a chance to miraculously recall as to where it was you have misplaced my money and let you walk a freeman or I could kill you right where you stand and still make a profit out of it. I'm giving you the final say."

"Well that is mighty generous of you." He muttered passively.

Damned if he did and damned if he didn't. What the hell was Flynn supposed to do now? He could tell her and suffer the consequences or not tell her and suffer anyway. Think Rider, think. Come on, he needed to do something; A trick, a lie, a scam… Anything! But for once to his amazement he, Flynn Rider thieve-extraordinaire, couldn't think of any possible strategy to pull over their eyes. The Stabbingtons were no problem, just distract them with something shiny then make a break for it. But Gothel… she was a different story. Clearly after years and years (and judging by those wrinkles, some more years and years) of conning, hoodwinking and trickery, Gothel knew every trick in the book. God damn it, he hated being at a disadvantage… especially to an old lady.

"Look I'm telling you I don't have it anymore!"

*Fingers snap*

Patchy draws out a dagger to Flynn's throat and…

"YET…I don't have it yet but if you give me a few weeks, a month tops I swear I can get it all back."

"I liked the whole killing him part better." Commented Sideburns as he emerged from the tunnel rubbing a tender spot on his scalp while shooting death glares at Rider in passing. "Whatever shuts him up faster."

_Perfect, that just what our little party needed anyway_, Flynn thought jadedly as they both took their positions towering over him, smirking ominously. No doubt imagining how good Flynn's head would look nicely mounted over a fireplace.

But fortunately after much scrutiny, Gothel spoke her proposition. "Alright Rider we'll play it your way. You have three days to get it all back."

"Three days? He echoed. "Are you kidding me? I can't get all that back in three days! It's impossible…"

Flynn immediately felt the tips of both a sword and dagger aimed at his throat.

"Your pretty face buys you a lot I bet. But unfortunately not my time… Three days Rider, take it or leave it."

He swallowed discreetly as he felt the heat of adrenalin drain from his body like a gash in a flour sack. "No problem."

"Wise choice." Her accent dripped with sadistic smugness.

"But afterwards when I do get it all get back- and I will- I walk out a freeman, no hassle, no trouble. We part out separate way _for good_. Capeesh?"

"You have my word, no harm will come to you _IF_ you complete the task. Now do we have a deal?" Gothel asked, leering at him with stretched out a hand.

Flynn stared at it cautiously for a moment, half-expecting it to transform into a scorpion at any given moment. He locked his jaw and took her pale, veiny hand in a firm shake sealing the deal. As the Stabbingtons once again lowered their weapons, Flynn exhaled in both relief and in anxiety. He quickly dusted off his vest and knees before giving them a quick salute and heading down the best direction to the town square. But before he could take a step, Gothel snapped her fingers again and had Flynn pinned back against the wall to receive one final message. "And just to be clear Rider, that no matter where you run, no matter where you hide. I will always find you, and I will always catch you. So if you try and escape me again… I will kill you."

Seeing that he understood her perfectly Flynn was once again realised and free to go. "I really do hope that whatever it was you _misplaced_ my money on was worth all this." Those were Gothel's final words to him before she disappeared back into the shadows with the Stabbingtons tagging behind her.

Flynn didn't wait for them to change their minds again. He immediately turned on his heel and left but not before muttering almost inaudibly:

"It was."

In the lateness of the evening it had occurred to Flynn, belatedly, that he was now settled in semi-darkness.

Yet not bothered enough to go search for a candle, he ignored the navy tinge that filled his disorderly bedchamber and just sat on the window casement where he loosely hugged his knees to his chest. Perhaps he was too old to curl up like this, but his childhood habits never did get away from him; he'd spent more nights than he could count in this hedgehog style- prickles out to fend off the world.

He sighed in exhaustion and ran a hand over his stubbly face, breathing in the stale scent old copper coins from his fingertips. He was exhausted.

Never had he pulled off so many hits in a day before. Usually, under different circumstances, he'd just lay back, relax and then in his own time take whatever really caught his eye. You know the big things, the flashy stuff like jewellery, or priceless artefacts, or works of art that some people would have the gall to call a masterpiece.

However those kinds of heists usually took weeks or even months to plan out without a hitch.

And they all required quite a generous amount of organizing, of planning , of going over tactics, coming up with multiple escape routes, and even costumes if need be. And Flynn only had three days!

He'd have to pull the crime of the century to get that old hag off his back.

He shuddered at the mental image.

_It was all going be a piece of cake_. He had said. _Easy money… Done and dusted within a week._ He had thought. Just dazzle them with a few elaborate and then make off with their stash before they knew what hit'em.

Well, at least that part of the plan worked out better than expected. He'd give himself props for that later.

Because unfortunately it was all downhill from there.

He knew from the beginning that breaking loyalty to Gothel was a death sentence. No one had ever escaped her bony grasp and lived to tell the tale. That was probably the key element that attracted him to this little setup. That if he was going to out with a bang, he'd do it in style. And what better way to do so than to be remembered as "Flynn Rider: The one who got away." He smirked at the multiple implications.

And yet, reviewing his little predicament, it would appear Flynn was in fact no exception to her untarnished record. So that spiel she gave a few hours back wasn't just something to rattle him. It was a warning, reminding him that she always got her man at the end… one way or another.

And with those two lug heads stepping in as her muscle… well…It was kind of hard for him to forget any time soon.

He creased his forehead as he tallied up the day's score in the head. "…and then there was the poker game, the purse, that street vender around the corner and… oh right, on the way over here I found a nickel under my boot."

This was just pathetic. He is the kingdom's most wanted criminal for crying out loud! A thief extraordinaire, a conman, a drifter, a flimflammer…

To roll it up into one he was Flynn Rider! And Flynn Rider did not earn such a prestige reputation by lifting spare change!

He left the shutters open so could see the moon riding among the clouds, lighting the topmost flag on the palace.

"Now there are some people who really got it easy", he scoffed as he subsided his agitated mood. Flynn always caught himself fantasising about having the life of a king. To lounge around in a castle of his very own while servants waited on him hand and foot. He'd have personal chefs serve him elaborate meals on a silver- no, gold platter every morning, noon and night. And just the very thought of him being literally surrounded by more gold and jewels than he could hardly spend in a lifetime almost makes him salivate like a dog.

He'd be lying if the thought of raiding the castle hadn't crossed his mind once or twice over the years. It was, of course, on many a young thief's bucket list to be the first, and quite possibly the only, to swiftly breach the impenetrable walls and discover chambers filled to the brim with all his heart's glittering desires. But ever since Princess what's-her-face was born they guarded that God damn castle as if the whole island would spontaneously combust and end of all life as we know it.

_Oh no, God forbid anyone should dare touch a hair on her highness's precious head._

He had heard rumours, that the penalty for intruders was immediate death. No trial, no warning; Just a short drop to a sudden stop. He subconsciously started to rub his neck but then immediately shook his head dismissively before any more grisly images came to mind. Besides, he already had more than enough on his plate than to start worrying about rope burns.

And anyway, tomorrow was a new day and the market place should be busy enough to keep him occupied, for the morning at least. He then remembered overheard the jewellers going on about some big, important shipment they were expecting very soon. Maybe he should drop by and check it out, and then maybe he can come up a real plan to save his skin.

But that he knew would take a miracle.


	2. Chapter 2

_5 days earlier._

King Wilhelm was seated at the head of the white marble table, idly stroking his greying beard while admiring the picturesque view through the colonnades of the veranda. The timely sun was illuminating the lustrous emerald forests that lay along the brink of a wide glistening sea that enclose around his prosperous Corona where every slate-covered rooftop reflected the sunlight with a dazzling gleam.

He discreetly smiled to himself as he stole one last glance at his flourishing kingdom before reverting his full attention back onto his wife, who still waiting for an answer.

"I just don't see the harm in waiting a few extra days!"

The queen sighed loudly as she placed her teacup back down on the fine porcelain saucer with a clang. She knew he would be like this. They've been having this conversation for months on end, and each time she brings it up he would act as if it were news to him. "Wilhelm, it's her birthday next week. Wouldn't you say we put off the subject long enough?"

"Camellia, she's still just a child-

"She's almost eighteen!" The queen interjected. "And may I remind you that's a whole two years older than when-"

"I don't care, she's still too young." He muttered stubbornly, finishing off his last swig of tea.

The queen let out another deep breath, picking her next words carefully. After all, the sole reason why they were arranging this was purely in their daughter's absolute best interest. They wouldn't have even considered it otherwise.

And truth-be-told, the queen wasn't too fond of thinking about all the new responsibilities their daughter would gain, the duties she must fulfil, her obligations to the kingdom, and living up everyone's expectations… it was nerve wrecking just to think about. Ever since that night, their daughter has lived a rather… unusual lifestyle compared to most princesses her age. It would be too much pressure for her to handle. She couldn't possibly do this by herself!

The Queen leaned forward and placed a comfortingly hand on her husband's. Their only daughter was growing up and there was no changing it. And while the queen has learned to accept it, the king still saw her as the same eight year old girl who would always place him in the seat of honour at one of her late night tea parties.

"Wilhelm, we have to tell her. Even if she doesn't understand it at first; she will come to see it is for the best. I just need you to see it too." Her earnest green eyes were pleading him to co-operate.

He sighed dramatically and hung his head in defeat. "Alright, fine. We'll tell her today."

"Thank you." The queen smiled gratefully at him before relaxing back onto her chair.

"Although why we just can't wait until after the gala is beyond me."

"Wilhelm I told you, we can't keep putting it off until last-

"I'm here. I'm here." Called out the svelte young princess, bounding into view while sporting a light and flowing ocean blue gown with gold lacings tied down the front.

Without waiting for assistance the princess Rapunzel pulled out her own chair and sat down opposite her mother while tucking betraying strands of loose blond hair back into her braid that snaked down her neck to the small of her back.

"Sorry I'm late again but I got em… distracted on my way down."

Her parents exchanged certain looks at that excuse, knowing their daughter all too well. "Distracted, ay?" The king entangled his fingers. "Well if that's what they're calling it nowadays then it appears you still have some 'distraction' on your chin dear." He said with some amusement as he gestured to a tell-tale blot of purple paint that marked her below the lip.

"Oh! She exclaimed as a faint blush crept on her cheeks. "I thought I got it all." She fumbled with her handkerchief, dipping it into her glass of water before dabbing it gently on her stained chin.

Her mother raised a suspicious eyebrow. "Weren't you supposed to be in your tutor classes all morning?"

"Uh huh" She beamed proudly. "I finished them early. So I decided to start off a new project"- She inspected her purple tainted handkerchief- "As you can see."

The queen chuckled and shook her ahead amused at the thought. Would that be the third time this month? She silently wondered, counting the occasions in her head. King Wilhelm on the other hand gave out a full belly laugh as he raised his glass to toast her with pride. He relished the thought of his sweet little Rapunzel showing up that pompous stuffed shirt of a tutor, Master Graham. It brought him back to his own youth where he recalled using more devious tactics than wit to aggravate his tutors. "She's a chip of the old block."

"Perhaps if it continues I shall take it to master Graham to provide her with more advanced assignments." Camellia teased.

At that moment, three white clad servers came into view and presented their highnesses with their meal as they grandly uncovered the silver lids. Then after asking if there was any more requirements, the King gave them a dismissive flick of the wrist and they all departed back to the kitchen.

Tucking a napkin under his chin, King Wilhelm rubbed his hand together like delighted child about to unwrap a Christmas present. I mean come on, who doesn't love Chef Maurice's butternut and cinnamon soup? But before his spoon could even touch the heavenly liquid, the queen gave him a stern look and discreetly tilted her head towards their daughter.

Slumping his shoulders discouragingly, he reluctantly nodded to allow his wife to take the lead.

Unobvious to the gestures passed between her parents, Rapunzel eyed them both peculiarly, wondering what the causes of them were. Whatever it was, she had no doubt that it involved her (it _always _involved her). Small knots formed in her stomach as her mother leaned in toward her and gently said, "Rapunzel, sweetheart, there's something your father and I need to talk to you about." Her assumption was correct.

"Did I do something?" She asked, replaying the day's events in her head. She couldn't recall being up to any major mischief today or at least not enough to receive such serious faces from both parents. Did they find out about the incident in the kitchen last week? She doubted it, thinking back on how well she cleaned it all up... unless Chef Maurice ratted her out.

Traitor.

"Oh no nothing like that, it's just that… well… in a couple weeks, after your birthday that is, you'll be put into some extra classes-

"I thought I was doing well in my tutor classes."

"Oh you are, but these aren't for tutoring you. There for repairing you."

"Preparing?" Rapunzel echoed, staring at her mother as if she had just spoken the word in Japanese. She turned her focus towards her father hoping for some form of interpretation. "For what?"

"For becoming queen dear." He said in such a simple tone as if the answer was clearly written on her soup.

"Oh." Her face relaxed but the anxiety that lay in her green eyes remained.

"They're not so bad." The queen insisted reassuringly. "I took them myself of course and they're just to help you on how to act in the company of various diplomats, how you would settle certain disputes, create strategies that will benefit the kingdom, and certain meetings you'll have attend- along with your father and I of course."

"Well, I-

"And there's another matter that we… your father needs to talk to you about." Camellia said almost painfully, taking the coward's way out and handing the torch to her husband. "Wilhelm?"

But as the king registered the words from across the table, his eyes shot up with alarm as if he just put his hand to the furnace.

"I'm not telling her!"

"Well I already told her the first part."

"How was I supposed to know we were taking this in turns?"

"Wilhelm, will you please just-"

"Would SOMEONE please just tell me what else is there!" Rapunzel intercepted, putting an end to her parent's infernal game of hot potato.

Yielding to his wife's wishes, Wilhelm placed a comforting hand on his daughter's shoulder. "Well sunbeam, your mother feels…

*A harsh cough from other end of the table*

"Your mother _and I _feel that because of your situation and you're… He hesitated to find the right words- involuntary lack of experience; we feel that it might be best if you didn't take on all these new responsibilities alone."

"What do you mean not alone?" Would her parents continue ruling beside her? She'd be alright with that; preferred it actually.

The king opened his mouth a couple of times before blanking on the straightforward answer. Perhaps a different approach would work better. "Well, what I'm trying to say is that… you know when… it's kind of like-

"An arranged marriage." The queen intervened unable to beat around the bush any longer. She braced herself for the princess's reaction but there was none. Rapunzel's expression was impassive; it was as if the words never left of the queen's mouth. Their daughter merely stared down at her meal. The once utterly delicious butternut and cinnamon soup now had as much appeal to her as sewerage.

* * *

><p>It was an hour after the brunch fiasco when Rapunzel found herself wandering towards the royal stables. She just needed some time to herself. To calmly reflect the matter in hand (or in this case, rant about it to a certain horse). As soon as she dismissed the stable boy, Rapunzel made a beeline toward the last stall to the left where a gold plaque with the name '<em>Maximus' <em>hung on the wooden gate.

Technically speaking, Max was the captain of the guard's horse but to Rapunzel he was her most faithful companion.  
>Ever since she was a little girl the young princess would often sneak a visit whenever she could to the stables, with an apple in tow, and talk about her daily hijinks while brushing Max's white-blond mane or scattering hay around with a pitch fork. They had servants for this of course, but Rapunzel was never known for holding still whenever she was in one of her chatty moods. She always felt she could talk to Max about just about anything because not only was the horse an avid listener but also an exceptional secret keeper. And with no one else around to talk to but her parents and pompous tutors, Rapunzel figured she was in desperate need of an actual friend, and if her choices were between a horse and her childhood dolls… she leaned more towards the option with an actual beating heart.<p>

However today was not the day for idle chit chat.

As soon as she closed the gate behind her Rapunzel grabbed a pitchfork and started stabbing the stack of hay as if it were personal and all those problems she had bottled up from brunch just seemed to pour out of her like a pitcher of water.

Max arched an eyebrow at this as he chewed on some grain, vaguely disappointed today's outburst was not accompanied with an apple.

"And before I can even digest the whole 'Queen training' thing, let alone my soup, they drop another one on me! An arranged marriage, Max! Can you believe that? Apparently there's this law that if I haven't found a '_suitor_' of my own before I turn eighteen I basically give my parents full reign on who I should spend the rest of my life with."

It's true. As soon as everyone had finally dispatched from the table, Rapunzel dashed straight for the royal library to check out this so called law that everyone had apparently forgot to inform her of up till now, and sure enough in section 5 paragraph 1 written in black and white: _If the heir of the throne has not chosen a suitor of their own accord before the heir's eighteenth year than the current reigning sovereigns may have the obligation to choose on behalf of their successor._

"I mean are they kidding me? How in the world do they propose I meet someone for _myself_ if they never let me leave the castle to begin with!?" She huffed a little louder than intended.

Max whinnied at her words disapprovingly.

"I know, I know." She said and ceased her affliction on the hay stack. Being reprimanded by a horse. Maybe this whole arrange marriage wasn't the lowest point of her day. "I know it's not _their_ fault, but… Urrgh, don't I get some ranting rights in a situation like this. I mean I did kinda see the rest of my life flash before in less time then I takes my father to finish a bowl of butternut and cinnamon soup."

Max neighed his rebuttal and she knew exactly what he meant.

I mean it wasn't like her parents were some tyrannical dictators who would force her down the aisle at sword point and marry her off to one of those dastardly villains she once read about in books. You know the walking clichés with a gold tooth and thin moustache that they would twirl around a finger and laugh maliciously at nothing in particular. No her parents were renowned for their kindness and consideration. Throughout the remainder of the meal they did nothing but coddled and reassured her that she will have the utmost final say and how there was absolutely no rush to go husband hunting any time soon. "Don't worry your mother and I are still as strong and healthy as ever. No one will be inheriting any throne any time in the near future. We just want to be assured that when the time does come about, that you are happy and content with someone who will look after for you." _And to make sure that the kingdom doesn't fall into destitution;_ Rapunzel thought, hearing perfectly what her parents were not saying.

"_I'm aware I'm blowing this way out of proportion it's just… I just. Humph, _I'm just not ready for this." She said, sliding down against the wall until her knees where folded before her chest. "And it's not just the marriage thing that's getting to me. In less than a couple of weeks I'll be eighteen and that will be it. I'll have to grow up and… be like my mother, take on new responsibilities and duties for the sake of the kingdom. My… kingdom."

Her breathe turned shallow as the knot in her stomach hiked its way up to her throat. _Her _kingdom. Soon she will be the people's Queen. She will be the one held responsible for the well-being of hundreds or even thousands of lives she's never even met.

Never even granted the opportunity to meet.

"I'm just not ready for this. I don't think it matters how much classes they put me through. I can't be the one to rule this kingdom." At that moment, she felt complete ashamed of herself for uttering those words out loud.

"Why is this only dawning on me now? I'm the princess. The sole heir. This should not be news to me."

_Because up till now I've been living the blissful life of comfort in the sanctity of a castle. A life where my biggest worry of the day was- '_what colour I should paint my latest project today_.'_

Upon seeing the distressed expression, Max nudged her shoulder in an attempt to offer some form of comfort. But what more could a horse do? Her eyes were positively glistening from the tears she was fighting back.

The last time he saw her like this was when he was still a mere colt in training and Rapunzel had wandered into his stall in the dead of night, far later then she was supposed to be out. She was five at that time. And it was then she found out about _that night_, about herself and why could never leave the castle. Ever. She cried herself to sleep in hay that night with Max lying beside her. Vowing to make sure nothing (and especially no one) will ever make his princess cry like this again.

But looking down at her now, he felt that today he may be off his game.

She looked up at him and stroked his nose. "Maybe they're right. Perhaps I should just marry someone else to do it all for me. A prince with more experience than I could ever gain. I'll just be the pretty face smiling and waving politely in the corner."

And with the prospect of such a bleak future ahead, something inside the princess snapped. Her anxiety now swiftly overthrown by pure unadulterated anger at the injustice of it all. This shouldn't be her fate. She had done nothing wrong! She never asked to be this way! Why should she being treated as a prisoner while the real culprit may still on the loose?

If it wasn't for _that night…_

And throughout her eighteen confined years Rapunzel must have asked herself that question a million times._  
>If that night hadn't of happened then I could've had a completely normal life (or at least as normal as a princess's life could be). If it wasn't for that night I could leave the castle any time I wanted to, actually visit other lands and kingdoms, go to festivals, and actually get the chance to meet someone for myself. If it wasn't for that night I could actually meet my people up in person and not just from the balcony<em>.

_Maybe if I'd actually gotten any one of those opportunities I wouldn't feel so Insecure about this whole queening business._

She stood up and shook her head, defeated and sighed. "If they only gave me one chance Max. Just one chance to do at least one of those things on my own. To do something outside of the castle. Even if it's tiny and stupidly insignificant, I just want to prove to them, and okay mainly myself, that there are in fact some things I can accomplish by myself and without mommy and daddy hovering over me worried that I may scrape my knee in the process.

"But I suppose it's too late for that now I mean how… "She was suddenly interrupted by girlish murmuring that was quickly approaching from just outside the stables. Holding her breath, Rapunzel stood as quietly as she could against the wall while carefully peeking out the window.

It was just the maids, she exhaled in relief.

"So anyway, that's when I heard about the new girl…"

"What new girl?" One of the maids asked the other.

"Well the new scullery maid of course. The one replacing Hilda. Heard she starts Friday and from France they say she from."

"French you say? Oh well la de da." The maid muttered while adjusting the laundry basket she held on her hip.

"Don't you start, we need all the help we can get round 'ere. Honestly, we got an entire castle to maintain and them royals only gots _twelve_ maids on staff? Fishy if you ask me. I'm tellin ya ever since the princess was born-"

"Them royal like their privacy. Aint nothing strange bout that."

"Aye, 'suppose you're right Tilly. It's just that…"

"Just that what?"

"Oh never mind me." She waved her off dismissively. "Just thinkin out loud is all. Anyway, did ya hear Helens taken leave this week'nd for that festival yoke they do in Clovinia."

"The Kingdom cross the forest? Why she going to a festival all the way out there for?"

"She tells me she goes there every year to visit her sister and they see them fireworks together."

"They have fireworks there!?"

"Sure do and wait…" Rapunzel squinted as she saw the maid pull out a piece of brightly coloured paper that was severely creased into quarters. "Here, look everything's on this flyer. Helen dropped it on her way out the kitchen. Yep see: they got fireworks, dancing, a fair ground, traditional-

*Dong… Dong… Dong* Came the regular booming chime of the clock tower.

"Uh oh, breaks over. See ya round Martha. I'll tell ya bout it all later then. Right now them Rugs aint gonna beat themselves."

"Aye wouldn't that be a sight."

As soon as they parted ways, Rapunzel kept her eyes fixed on the spot where they both had stood… or more specifically, on the spot where Martha had dropped the flyer in her haste back to the castle.

Rapunzel bit her lip and turned back to Max who was already squaring his eyes at her suspiciously, as if he could read her thoughts like an open book.

She cleared her throat and feigned casualness. "Well I feel a lot better now. Good talk buddy." She gave him a quick pat on the nose before promptly exiting the stable before a wayward breeze carried the flyer away.

Her chance may have come sooner than expected.


End file.
